HAWKESBURY GOLD CUP

Presenters: Sophie Grant, Jack Mercer, Ben and Lucy — with Gareth Taylor and Kylie

​

Twelve of us made this trip.

By the time we’d finished loading the cars, it felt less like a Race Day Co outing and more like a small expedition.

Kylie came down from Orange to join us. Gareth’s making the absolute most of his remaining time in Australia, and nobody’s arguing with him about it.

We decided to make a proper long weekend of it.

Friday belonged to Windsor and Richmond.

Both were among Governor Macquarie’s original five towns, established in 1810, and there’s history everywhere once you start looking.

We began around Thompson Square in Windsor, one of Australia’s oldest public squares, and inevitably ended up outside the Macquarie Arms Hotel, which has been serving travellers since the early nineteenth century.

Ben disappeared inside “to check.”

He reappeared considerably later having apparently conducted a very thorough investigation.

St Matthew’s Church, designed by convict architect Francis Greenway, still watches over Windsor, while over in Richmond we wandered through the old town centre and park before calling it a day.

Saturday was Cup Day.

All twelve of us headed for Hawkesbury Race Club, and for an afternoon the history lessons were forgotten.

There were horses to cheer.

Then on Sunday, instead of heading home, we drove up to Wisemans Ferry and took over a houseboat for a couple of nights.

A proper first for most of us.

This is another corner of the Hawkesbury where history follows you around. Solomon Wiseman established a ferry crossing here in the early nineteenth century, servicing the route that became part of the Great North Road.

But once we were on the water, nobody was particularly interested in dates.

We cruised slowly past sandstone cliffs and quiet bush.

Someone seemed to be fishing off the back deck all afternoon.

Lucy was sketching the escarpments.

And Jack was thoroughly pleased with himself for finding the one houseboat with a rooftop spa.

By Monday, nobody much wanted to go home.

Twelve people.

One very old pub.

A country Cup.

And two nights drifting along the Hawkesbury beneath sandstone cliffs.

That’s how you turn a race meeting into a proper long weekend.

If next year’s Hawkesbury Cup rolls around, don’t just do the races.

Stay for the river.

________________________________________________

​​

THE HAWKESBURY GOLD CUP
2 May 2026

​

By Saturday afternoon, all twelve of us had made it to Hawkesbury Race Club.

Then Kenny, Tommy and Finn appeared.

Our small expedition was becoming ridiculous.

Finn found Gareth and Kylie near the rail.

“Got one for you.”

Gareth looked suspicious.

“I’ve been warned about you.”

“Number seventeen. Churchill’s Choice.”

Kenny arrived behind him.

“Twenty-six dollars.”

Gareth laughed.

“Right. Definitely been warned.”

The Cup got underway and Churchill’s Choice settled back off the speed.

For most of the race, Gareth couldn’t even find her.

Then they turned for home.

Regan Bayliss brought the mare to the outside.

Finn pointed.

“There.”

Churchill’s Choice started coming.

Palmetto was still in front and fighting.

But the mare kept building.

The whole group was yelling now.

Even Gareth knew what was happening.

“She’s going to get him!”

Churchill’s Choice swept past late.

The $26 outsider had won the Hawkesbury Gold Cup.

Gareth stared at Finn.

“How do you keep doing that?”

Kenny answered for him.

“Don’t ask.”

Tommy looked around at the celebrating mob.

“Right. Who organised this houseboat?”

Jack raised his hand.

Tommy smiled.

“Now we’re talking.”

​​​

​